


I love my wife. My wife is dead.

by fallintothegrey



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Love Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallintothegrey/pseuds/fallintothegrey
Summary: Poe Dameron was one of the best pilots in the galaxy during the war against the First Order and in 36 ABY, he was awarded a medal of Bravery for his heroics in the Battle of Akuria that ultimately crippled the forces of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and brought about the end of the First Order. In 40 ABY, his 25-year-old wife and Resistance partner, Rey, passed away after succumbing to Karatos plague. 16 months later, Poe recorded a holo for his late wife and sealed it in his BB unit. It remained unplayed until after his death in 86 ABY.





	I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Poe Dameron was one of the best pilots in the galaxy during the war against the First Order and in 36 ABY, he was awarded a medal of Bravery for his heroics in the Battle of Akuria that ultimately crippled the forces of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and brought about the end of the First Order. In 40 ABY, his 25-year-old wife and Resistance partner, Rey, passed away after succumbing to Karatos plague. 16 months later, Poe recorded a holo for his late wife and sealed it in his BB unit. It remained unplayed until after his death in 86 ABY.

* * *

 

Summer, 41 ABY

Rey of sunshine,

I adore you, my love.

I know how much you like to hear that, made me always tell you that through the comm, even when the whole squad could hear—but I don’t only say it because you like it, I say it because it makes me warm all over inside to say it to you.

It has been such a terribly long time since I last talked to you—almost two years, but I know you’ll excuse me because you know how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to making this holo.

But now I know, my darling wife, that it is right to do so, what I have delayed—avoided—doing, and what I have done so much in the past.

I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.

I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead. I still want to fly with you, fight side by side with you. I still want to comfort and take care of you, hold you through the nightmares. And I want you to love me and care for me, hold me when the darkness comes.

I want to have problems to discuss with you—how to rewire the cannons on my X-wing, how to care for the Force tree on the ranch.

I want to do little projects with you. During the war, I never thought—I never thought until just now that we can do that.

What should we do?

We started to learn to program agrirobots—to learn Shyriiwook so Chewie would stop laughing at me. We planned to get a holo projector.

Can’t I do something now?

No. I am alone without you. You were the “idea-Jedi” and general mastermind of all our wild adventures after the war. You wanted to see the galaxy, to do everything, and I wanted to do everything with you.

When you got sick, you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to give and thought I needed—more years, more love, more you. You needn’t have worried. I told you then, there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways, so much, that there was no more you needed to give.

And now it is clearly even more true—you can give me nothing now, and yet I love you so much that you stand in my way of loving anyone else.

But I want you to stand there.

You, dead, are so much more than anyone else alive.

I know you will tell me I’m foolish—you’ll probably even tell me I’m a moof milker and I will laugh at the gibe. I know you will tell me that you want me to have happiness, peace, balance, and that you don’t want to be in my way.

I’ll bet you are surprised that I don’t have a girlfriend—except you, my love—after two years. But you can’t help it, my love, nor can I. I don’t understand it—I’ve met many girls on Yavin 4 and in my travels around the galaxy, very nice ones, and I don’t want to remain alone—but after two or three meetings they all seem like darkness compared to you, my Rey of sunshine.

You only are left to me.

You are real.

My dear wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Poe.

P.S. Please excuse my not transmitting this—I don’t know if you have a droid with you in your new system.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is an adaptation of a letter by the physicist Richard Feynman to his wife Arline, who died at the age of 25. Oscar Isaac read the letter as part of _Letters Live_ and I couldn't stop thinking about what Poe's letter to Rey would sound like. This has probably already been done, but I couldn't write anything else until I did this.
> 
> See Oscar's powerful performance [ here](http://letterslive.com/letter/i-love-my-wife-my-wife-is-dead/).


End file.
